


sugar plum

by kathleenfergie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathleenfergie/pseuds/kathleenfergie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Can you make me normal? Can you make our family normal?' She asked quietly, tears forming in her small eyes.</p><p>'Rose...there's no such thing as normal.' Hermione finally replied.  'I know it's hard when you're so little and you don't understand what's going on with you and your magic. I know you're scared, but it will get much easier. The world isn't the scary place that it used to be, everyone is a lot happier now, I promise.'</p><p>'Nobody ever seems happy. ' The girl replied, upset. 'I ask you every month to teach me how to play the piano and to take me to the park, to dance with me in the living room, but all you do is fight for house elves! All you and daddy do is spend your time in the magic world, and you never want to be with me. Don't you love me, mummy? Did I do something wrong?'</p><p>Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sugar plum

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I rewrote this little oneshot because I thought that it could be better. It's a little scene between Rose and Hermione. My friend Clare gave me a prompt for it, and I went from there. I don't know if it's better than the original, but I like it, so enjoy.
> 
> Jo owns it all.

The little girl knew that it was too late to be out of bed, a fact she gathered from the tall grandfather clock she sat in front of. It was rather dusty, much like everything else the Weasley family owned. It's resting place was the landing of the staircase, and it only worked a few times each year. Each night she heard it begin to tick, Rose would paddle her way down the hall and sit with her legs crossed, listening to the pendulum swing back and forth. As a child who was subject to many night terrors, Rose found that the sound calmed her and chased away the ominous feeling that accompanied the darkness of her house. The house in question was far too big and had too many dark corners than she would have liked. Her Aunt Luna even claimed that there were dark things lurking, waiting to snatch up the young girl, but Rose didn't take too much to heart when it came to her exuberant aunt.

Rose knew that her mother would awake eventually and scoot her off to bed, but for the moment, she sat, her eyes in perfect time with the pendulum.

All throughout her short life, Rose had been enamored with a particular Nutcracker storybook Grandma Granger gave to her, and she often thought of the intimidating owl that sat on top. Her clock had no such owl, but it did tend to collect a number of cobwebs. Her mother had caught her many a time drawing nonsense pictures in the collections of dust on the walls and floors of the house. Unlike her friends, Rose's family did not own house elves, and she found that everything wasn't as clean as she'd like it to be. Many things in the giant house went untouched. Especially with the arrival of her younger brother, her parents rarely found time to do anything at their leisure, and so the tidiness of the house was not the biggest thing on their mind.

In their sitting room, the piano she longed to learn how to play, had subsequently never been played and had long since gone out of tune, Rose's dreams of dancing ballet to her mother's twinkling notes dying fast.

There were times when Rose didn't like how much her parents had given up just for their work, or for her little brother. It seemed like after he was born their lives just stopped. Rose had always wanted more siblings, more little sister to dance and sing with. However, she was six and Hugo was four, and Rose knew that her parents would not be adding any more children to their small family. There were just too many bad men and women to put in Azkaban, and too many magical creatures to save.

One thing Rose loved about visiting her muggle grandparents was that they never talked about magic or the Wizarding war. They just let her be a normal little girl, praising her for when she learned mundane things instead of magic.

The idea of normalcy was slowly slipping away, however, as Rose's incidents of accidental magic were becoming more frequent. The idea of magic made the little girl anxious. She liked to knit with her hands, unlike Grandma Weasley, and she like to wear comfortable muggle clothes instead of finicky robes. She didn't want to have to worry about not being the next saviour of the world. She was so young and yet she felt so much pressure to be like her parents. When her parents took her and Hugo to Diagon Alley, she often kept her eyes pointed towards the cobblestones instead of the storefronts, avoiding the gaze of people who whispered into each other's ear about her mother or father's identity. It didn't help that her unruly ginger hair made her as recognizable as Stonehenge when she went out, as was the curse of Weasley clan.

She loved spending time with friends and her cousins, but only if they were in the safe confines of their homes. Too many times had Rose been blinded by the flash of a Wizard's camera.

Rose let loose a tiny sigh and fingered the lace hem of her nightgown, made by Grandma Weasley. She'd sewn it a few years ago and it was big and warm, something Rose treasured. The long night dress made her feel like a ballerina as it flower around her. Its stark white colour stood out against the deep mahogany of the wooden floorboards, with only the moonlight illuminating the halls. Her mother had told her that she wouldn't be able to wear the same nightgown for her whole life, but Rose was content to wear this one until it was rags. Eventually she would commission a new one from her grandmother.

A draft floated past her, sending a cascade of chills down her back, and Rose wished she had remembered to bring her doll with her for comfort. She contemplated returning to retrieve it, but she didn't want to wake her mother, a light sleeper after all she'd lived through. She could hear her father snoring up the stairs, the sounds reminding her of the toy motorbike the Hugo owned. He mostly sent it racing between her feet, much to the girl's annoyance.

The grandfather clock chimed _one...two...three._

Not long after the chime of three o'clock, Rose heard the soft footfalls of her mother coming down towards to the landing, and her quiet voice rang out through the silence.

'Rose, darling, why aren't you in your bed?' Hermione asked her daughter, traveling the last few steps towards where her daughter sat. Hermione's skill for wandless magic was being displayed through the light charm that floated beside her, hurting Rose's eyes after becoming accustomed to the dark.

'I had a nightmare, and the clock started ticking. I couldn't get back to sleep.' Rose could see her mother's expression soften and she sat next to her on the hardwood floor, pulling her small daughter into her lap. Hermione knew that she shouldn't coddle her growing daughter, who was almost coming into her magical age, but she did not want to neglect the frightened girl who was so much like herself.

'What did you see in your nightmare, my love?' Hermione asked, rubbing circles into the small girl's back.

'The snake-man. After James told me about the Death Eaters I can't get him out my head,' she replied quietly. 'He told me about Uncle Harry's fourth year when the bad man tried to hurt him, and in my dream there are a bunch of people in white, ghostly masks standing around me in a circle. I can't move and they keep saying words that I don't understand, and all I can see is a bright, green light in the sky. After a while, everything goes black and all I can see is _him_ , Volde - ' She could not finish her sentence, however, as recalling the dream made her start to tremble.

'Hush, darling, it's alright, mummy's here,' Hermione told her, hugging her daughter even closer to her in support. 'You should have told me that James was telling you these stories. He knows he's not to say them to anyone. Uncle Harry, your dad, and I will have a chat with him and make sure that he never says one word about it again, alright?' Hermione gently lifted Rose's face in order to look into her eyes. 'Everything will be alright, no one will hurt you.'

Hermione stood with her daughter in her lap and descended the last stretch of stairs, the light charm following her through the hallway into the kitchen.

'Come on then, love, how about I make us each a cuppa?' Hermione asked, setting the girl down on the counter top, smoothing her daughter's old nightgown. She planned only to make the tea so that she could put a little Dreamless Draught in her daughter's, but by the look on the girl's face, she was not likely to oblige. 'Tell me what I can do for you, darling, I only want to help you.'

'Can you make me normal? Can you make our family normal?' She asked quietly, tears forming in her small eyes.

Hermione was stunned, she had no words to give.

'Rose...there's no such thing as normal.' Hermione finally replied, at a loss for her regular wisdom. 'I know it's hard when you're so little and you don't understand what's going on with you and your magic. When I lived in the Muggle world, I felt the same way. Until I got my Hogwarts letter I was completely lost, and my parents couldn't do anything for me. I know you're scared, but it will get much easier. The world isn't the scary place that it used to be, everyone is a lot happier now, I promise.'

'Nobody ever seems happy. All you and dad do is work, you never go out like Uncle Harry and Auntie Gin. Uncle Harry takes _her_ out to fancy restaurants and buys her fancy gifts, dad never does any of that for you. You two never want to spend time with me and Hugo, you never want to play with me. Daddy yelled at me last week because I set the counter on fire, but it wasn't my fault! It was stupid, _stupid_ magic!' Rose's usually pale face flushed as she told her mother how she really felt. 'I ask you every month to teach me how to play the piano and to take me to the park, to dance with me in the living room, but all you do is fight for house elves! All you and daddy do is spend your time in the magic world, and you never want to be with me. Don't you love me, mummy? Did I do something wrong?' Rose began to sob, and Hermione felt her heart break. The small girl threw her arms around her stunned mother and cried. 'I just want to be a little girl again, I don't want anymore nightmares, and I want to be happy.'

Hermione clutched her daughter close, stroking the girl's hair that was so much like her own, except a vibrant shade of red. A few tears escaped her own eyes, and they streaked down her cheeks.

Eventually the little girl tired herself out with tears and collapsed into her mother's arms. Hermione stayed there for a couple moments afterwards, too stunned to move. When she came out of her stupor, she lifted her daughter once more and carried her back up the stairs, past the grandfather clock - which had ceased to tick - and to her room.

Hermione softly placed the girl back in her bed, pulling her ballerina embroidered blankets over her, sighing. She stroked the girl's soft hair, standing over her bedside. She diminished the light charm, letting darkness fall over her house once more. The moon still streamed in through the window and it illuminated Rose's beautiful face.

After a couple of moments, Hermione lifted the blankets and snuggled next to her daughter. Hermione stared at the ceiling and cast a small charm over the two of them, the pink lights dancing around in the shapes of the sugar plum princess and her fairies, melodies from _The Nutcracker,_ which she knew to be a love of her daughter's, wafting throughout the young girl's room.

_Perhaps this, too, is a dream,_ she thought. Part of her wanted the night's events to disappear, but she knew that she would eventually have to face her daughter and reevaluate the way their family lived their life.

Hermione sighed, tucking her arms around Rose, hugging her close. Hermione could feel her daughter cuddling into her, and she smiled. She fell asleep humming the _Nutcracker_ theme to herself, her head resting above Rose's.


End file.
